


A Black Salty Miracle

by Chelidona (Hobbity), islandkate, Lakritzwolf



Category: Being Human (UK), The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: Alternate Universe, Britchell, Crossover, M/M, Vampire Cure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2020-03-05 14:45:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18830791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hobbity/pseuds/Chelidona, https://archiveofourown.org/users/islandkate/pseuds/islandkate, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lakritzwolf/pseuds/Lakritzwolf
Summary: Anders and Mitchell have made it to their five year anniversary.  It’s a miracle!  But another miracle is in store...





	1. Salvation in Scandinavia

 

Anders and Mitchell had made it to five years. Most people would not have given them 5 months when they started dating. (Mikkel hadn’t even given them five days, the prick.)

This called for a big celebration and Anders really splashed out. After a week in New York with Mitchell’s new best friends, Luke and Iolaus, they went to stay two weeks with Mitchell’s friends in England, a time during which Anders was bored enough to spend 10 hours a day working remotely, followed by the real treat, two weeks in Norway.

(Yes, it had taken a lot of Bragi power to convince Mitchell’s managers at the hospital to give him five weeks off).

Norway had initially been Anders’ suggestion, he had liked the country, and Mitchell had been unexpectedly enthusiastic. Not only was he interested in exploring the roots of Anders’ powers, he also told Anders that for reasons nobody had ever figured out, there were rarely any vampires in Scandinavia. And most of the vampires that were there were foreigners. After New York with its horde of vampires, and England, which as much as he enjoyed the company of his friends, was also full of memories of his worst times.  Norway would be so relaxing.

It did not go so well. The vampires in New York and the memories at home had fuelled Mitchell’s blood cravings. If Anders’ blood had not been tainted by the divine, he would be dead, despite Mitchell’s love for him. It took all Mitchell had to stop himself from killing people.

The first evening in Oslo was fine. They stayed in the hotel room and flicked through Norwegian TV, entertaining themselves by guessing what was said - Anders found a rude “translation” for everything, while Mitchell tried harder to make sense of what was said. The ads were easier, so they started to stick with them.

And then a very special ad came on. Even Anders was impressed by how sexual fruit and vegetables could be. And how horny they made him. Norwegian lessons forgotten, they had hot steamy sex in the hotel bed that they would never admit happened because a peach and a chocolate-glazed doughnut had them all worked up. Though Mitchell would happily admit, if anyone ever asked, that Anders’ best feature looked very peachy. Then Anders sulked a little because that ad was something that he should have come up with for J:PR and why did he not have any sex shops as customers. So Mitchell had to distract him with a second round which also nicely distracted him from his blood cravings.

So on the second day in Oslo, Mitchell decided to stay in the hotel room with the “do not disturb” sign outside so the cleaners would not come in. Anders tried to distract him with sex and was nearly bitten by a very irritable vampire who also tersely told him he would not bite his boyfriend on holidays, Anders was supposed to relax not give blood.

Not sure how to solve that problem, Anders went out to find them some food and came back with two boxes of pizza and a small bag from the candy store.

“I got something to cheer you up,” Anders brandished the bag with a wicked grin, “As you so rudely refused sex ….”

“I wasn’t in the mood.” Mitchell barely glanced up, but when Anders handed him a pizza, he started shovelling it down. It did little to nothing to quell his real hunger.

After every scrap of pizza was consumed, Mitchell turned to the bags of candy and pulled out a bag of black squares. They smelled surprisingly enticing. He raised an eyebrow.

“Salty liquorice,” Anders explained with a smirk, “You said you want to try some local specialities.”

“I did not mean liquorice. I used to have the proper stuff, the liquorice plant roots, as kid - and I did not much like them then. It was just one of the sweet things we could afford.” His mood rapidly deteriorating, he offered the bag to Anders. “You take it.”

“No way!” Anders sneered. “That stuff’s disgusting.”

They had a little staring match.

Then Mitchell shoved his hand into the bag and pulled out the liquorice. So Anders brought him a gift that was meant to be disgusting? He’d pretend it’s delicious.

It was disgusting. So disgusting. But at the same time so, so satisfying. The liquorice melted a little on his tongue, and the black sap did something strange to Mitchell. It was… soothing? Unable to resist, he put another and another and another in his mouth. Until the bag was empty.

Anders looked at him with big eyes. “You did not just…”

Mitchell barely heard him. He sighed in delight and let himself fall backwards on the bed. The nice, fluffy bed. He patted the spot beside him to invite Anders.

“Did you notice how pretty the ceiling is?” He asked. “So creamy. And the bed is so soft. And so white. Did you notice how white hotel sheets are?”

Anders carefully sat down next to Mitchell. “Mitch? Are you all right?”

In all their years together, Mitchell had never been like this and Anders was at a loss. Mitchell gave him a dopey smile. “Never better. You’re so fluffy.”

“I’m what?”

“So fluffy. You got a fluffy butt, and a fluffy chest, and such fluffy hair.”  Mitchell started to feel Anders up and Anders would never say no to making out. 

Still, when they were both sweaty and spooning under the soft white sheets, Anders turned in Mitchell’s hug.  “Babe? Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes.” Mitchell sounded a bit less dopey. “I feel good. No blood craving. At all. Not the slightest nibbling feeling.”

“What?” Anders sat straight up breaking the hug and Mitchell looked up at him in confusion. Anders took a deep breath, and then took Mitchell’s hand. “Babe. Are you sure? No blood craving?”

“No.”

Mitchell still seemed too blissed out to notice how extraordinarily curious this was, but Anders’ mind was reeling. What had they done? The pizza? Unlikely. Mitchell had pizza at least every second day and Anders had taken care to avoid any weird Scandinavian pizza style.

The liquorice... It had to be the liquorice!

He patted Mitchell on the head and got out of bed despite his boyfriend’s mild complaints. Liquorice. Over the last five years Anders had tried to find a cure for vampirism, but liquorice had never been on the list of possible cures.

However… Anders pulled up a list of countries with few reported cases of vampirism. And compared it with countries in which liquorice was consumed. He found that all the countries with few vampires were countries in which liquorice consumption was high. And some tedious research later, he could correlate the consumption of strong, preferably salted, liquorice with few cases of vampirism.

“Babe?” Mitchell slung his arm around Anders. “Why you’re working?”

“You were blissed out there.” Anders turned around and looked at Mitchell, serious for once. “How you’re feeling? How’s the bloodlust?”

“Great. I mean, non existent. I’m grand. Let’s go out! The weather is beautiful!”

“I think we need to talk about what happened.”

Mitchell let go of Anders and leant against the wall, arms crossed. “Talk? Why talk? Can’t you let me enjoy this feeling? Do you know how rare this is?”

Anders rolled his eyes. “Yes. Which is why it’s curious that you ate  a bag of liquorice, act like you smoked a bag of weed, and then lost the blood cravings that almost made you attack the guy who brought us breakfast.”

“Are you saying the liquorice did it?”

“Yes. We need to test it more, of course, but yes. It seems likely.”

Mitchell frowned. “Let’s not get my hopes up. Come on, we’re on holidays. Let’s go out.”

Anders let himself be pulled out of the hotel room. But he insisted, on their way back to the hotel, that they’d stop at the candy shop and get more liquorice.

The next morning, Mitchell’s blood cravings had still not reappeared, but around lunch he confessed, under Anders’ constant questions that yes, blood was becoming attractive again. So Anders fed him the liquorice. He only gave Mitchell three pieces, despite the vampire’s pleading for more. Mitchell started pouting for real when Anders also refused to kiss him because of the taste.

Still, the bloodlust stopped. Mitchell could hardly deny that it could be an accident. In the evening, when Anders saw him eyeing the waiter’s jugular, he gave him another piece of liquorice.  The pressure at the back of Mitchell’s brain, trying to bring the monster out, vanished.

Those were the best days Mitchell had since he was turned. Enjoying the Norwegian landscape with his gorgeous boyfriend and no thought of drinking blood even at the back of his brain.

Luckily for him, those days could continue.  His gorgeous boyfriend had the power of Bragi. They planned to smuggle a generous amount of Norwegian liquorice to New Zealand and keep the monster quiet.  Maybe they could find a way to use it offensively too, besides the smell on Mitchell’s breath.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liquorice is taking the vampire world by storm and Anders is very pleased. Until ....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's been 6 months ... we can explain. Kind of. The summary is life: It throws obstacles in our way and a writer's block in mine (Chelidona). Still, I think islandkate has come up with some of her most brilliant stuff for this, so we hope you'll still enjoy!

Mitchell was nervously chewing on fish shaped salted liquorice as he watched Anders attempting to ply a customs official after having bragi-ed his way into the office in the first place. It did not go well.

The guy crossed his arms. “What are you trying to do here? And what is that funny voice you’re doing?”

Suddenly it hit Mitchell. Something had nudged his brain since they entered the office. Something that should have been apparent.

Mitchell strode towards the two of them, and put his hand on Anders’ shoulder. “Shut up for a moment, Anders. Look, mate,” addressing the customs official now, “there’s a reflection of my boyfriend in the window but not of you.”

“Ah...”

Mitchell held up a finger, “Don’t try to explain it away. My instincts are not as sharp as they used to be, but you cannot possibly convince me that you’re not a vampire.”

In the silence they could hear somebody turning on the printer in the adjoining office.

“What if I am,” the guy whispered harshly. “So are you. How is that related to your boyfriend here trying to import liquorice.”

So Mitchell explained. The frown on the other man’s face just increased.

“Liquorice. Liquorice is a substitute for blood.”

Mitchell whipped out the bag with the meager leftovers from the haul they brought in from Norway a month earlier. 

“Smell it.”

The other’s eyes dilated. “What...”

“Go on. Try one.”

Five minutes later they had an agreement that their new, and still sceptical, friend Patrick would contact an English vampire of his acquaintance, who resided in Norway and hated liquorice. The guy would send a package that Patrick would get through customs. And then he’d give it a good trial run himself.

Three weeks later, Anders awoke to pounding on his door. He looked at the clock. He blinked blearily. It was 4am. Mitchell wasn’t due home for more than two hours. The pounding sounded again.

He grabbed his cell phone and keyed up the security system. It was Patrick the Customs vamp. Great. All he needed was a strange vampire at his front door at o’ dark stupid. He sent a screenshot off to Mitchell, assumed he’d hurry home and clicked on the remote intercom. “It’s 4am. What could possibly be so important?”

“I need to talk with Mitchell.”

Anders took a deep breath. He had never really wormed the information out of Mitchell if, or if not, vampires needed to be invited before they could attack somebody in their home. 

“I’ll let you into the hallway, but no further. Mitchell will be back in a moment.”

Mitchell was there 10 minutes later, and Anders heard him talking to Patrick in the hallway.

Then Mitchell entered the flat, on his own.

“Sorry, Anders, I need to head out again. Just need to change my clothes.”

“Head out? Where? With him!?”

“Yes. Don’t worry about it.” Mitchell pecked Anders’ cheek and disappeared into the bedroom. Anders followed.

“I’m coming with you.”

“No. You will not. It is too dangerous for you.”

“I come with you, or you’re not going either! Not to anything dangerous!”

Mitchell sighed and said nothing, while he changed from his work uniform into skinny jeans and a yellow t-shirt. The sight would have been way better had Anders not been in the middle of worrying.

When he turned around, Mitchell looked serious. The “I am feeling the weight of my 120 years on earth” serious face that Mitchell usually tried to hide and that made Anders feel speechless for all the wrong reasons because he never knew how to deal with that.

“Anders. You’re not stupid. Patrick and I are going to meet up with other vampires. I’m safe around them. You’re not. And I won’t be able to fight all of them if they decide to try a little Asgardian blood instead of liquorice.”

Anders relented. If Mitchell got like this, he had no choice.

When Anders had to leave for the office in the morning, Mitchell was not back. Anders considered calling Dawn and letting her handle everything, but he thought better of it.

If he did that, both Mitchell (who would return hale and healthy) and Ty would yell at him.

When Anders returned home, Mitchell was sleeping on the couch, still wearing the clothes of the night before. He was curled around a plastic bag that Anders was fairly sure contained liquorice.

Anders regretted that he couldn’t snap a picture because right now Mitchell looked like an adorable cat.

He tried to wake him up, but with no success. It was just as well - he supposed a nicer person would not even have considered waking up their exhausted partner.

***

The next day was, luckily, a Saturday, so once Anders’ had his morning coffee, he was ready to confront Mitchell who had, at some point during the night, gotten up to get into bed and snuggle up to Anders.

Mitchell sat opposite him, chewing on some liquorice and making a face.

“It was a success,” he informed Anders once he swallowed the last bit. “Patrick and I went to get the liquorice out of the crates and then distributed it among a few vampires Patrick knows. Most of them are willing to come back for more.”

Anders nodded. “Are they willing to pay?”

That was the little catch in their plan. Smuggling was not exactly cheap.

“Yes. Actually, Patrick and I thought that we could do with your help.”

Anders frowned. “When did this become a ‘Patrick and you’ operation? I’m your boyfriend.”

“And aren’t you adorable when you’re jealous.” Mitchell reached over to pat Anders head. Anders slapped his hand away.

“All right, all right. So what do you need my help with.”

“Distributing the stuff. We hope to spread the word, but Patrick and me going around Auckland delivering packages is hardly sustainable. We thought, as you know so much about business, and about drugs, I might add, that you could help setting up a company and then do the PR for it. We’d use company events to distribute the stuff. Eventually, we’ll get a proper licence and sell it legal.”

Of course Anders grumbled, but of course he was also more than able to set up the company. Patrick and Mitchell were listed as the owners (Patrick had insisted - Anders was reluctant but in the end, his love for Mitchell won out. Mitchell needed that man’s help).

Mitchell kept quiet about all the struggles, he, Patrick, and other vampires went through to promote liquorice in New Zealand. Too many vampires were comfortable with being blood thirsty animals. Especially the ancient ones. There were only three of them in New Zealand, luckily. 

But it was not only New Zealand, vampires on all continents started catching on. Business was growing. From Patrick’s friend in Norway smuggling some liquorice into planes, a whole organisation was growing in Scandinavia, with vampires moving in from other countries to get in on the profit and also to have cheap access to the liquorice. There were talks about founding their own liquorice factories, including one in New Zealand to produce their own liquorice.

With the help of the vampire network, they got an official licence to import liquorice, raw and processed, into New Zealand in record time and soon into every other country they desired.

Business was booming. Anders was in his element. A boyfriend who was less moody and hence more horny, and money just rolling in. Of course, there were squabbles. And intrigues. Who would get what part of the liquorice pie. Anders was in his element. He could do intrigues. And Mitchell could do charm, along with threats.

Lick-a-vamp, as they were now officially called, dominated the liquorice-for-vampires market in the Asian Pacific area, with a strong hold in Japan and China (Anders took Mitchell to Tokyo for a business trip. They found there was a vampire yakuza. They also found out said yakuza had no way of getting their hands on liquorice. Anders loved every moment). 

And mortals started to catch on to this new trend. Anders’ suggestion to shape the candy into fangs had them moving in mortal circles as well. They really took off in the US Halloween market. The company had to introduce red licorice fangs to keep up with demand. Things were looking up and they had all forgotten how hard it had been to turn reluctant blood-suckers into passionate liquorice-lickers.

But about two weeks after their trip to Japan, Anders was alone in the office, as Dawn had gone out to scout locations for another promo event. He was just figuring out where she kept the tea, when a group of three men burst into the office wielding rapiers, of all things to wield in the 21st century. Between their French accents and the ridiculous weapons, Bragi was screaming in the back of his head.

“Can I help you?” Anders asked, in his Bragi voice. It had no impact. And there was only one possible reason why.

“Yes.” Vampire in the Middle made a stab at Anders, not close enough to hit but close enough to make a threat. “Stop selling that black stuff.”

Definitely the leader - Athos, Anders thought.

“Liquorice,” left vampire - Aramis - helped him out.

“Liquorice,” Athos said. 

“And why?” Anders asked, trying to use his business voice. If Bragi didn’t work, maybe acting as if this was a business meeting did. 

“You are turning our people into cowards.” Vampire to the right - Porthos - was the one to speak this time. “For centuries, we’ve hunted humans. And now these young vampires come in, and suddenly we’re supposed to stop? Because of sweets?”

Hadn’t Mitchell said there were three ancient vampires in New Zealand? Shit.

“I am sure we can talk about this.”

“No we cannot.” All three showed their teeth and Anders swallowed. Double shit. There was no way to escape three vampires.

Being frog marched out the front door of his own office was embarrassing. Having his brothers see it would have been worse. He said a silent prayer of thanks that it was only Dawn approaching the building. She would have the sense to back off and call Mitchell. She started. He caught her eye and shook his head. She ran, putting her phone to her ear. The vampires ignored her. They had their prize. They shoved it in an elderly black Mercedes and took off.

Mitchell made it to the bar while he was still on the phone with Dawn.

“Mike!” Mitchell barked. “We got an emergency.”

For once, there were customers in the bars, but no Johnson brothers. Mitchell glared at the strangers.

“Out! This bar is closed. Family emergency. Mike, get Ty and Axl.”

“Hang on!” Mike protested.

Mitchell wasted precious time trying to explain the situation. He felt like Einstein explain relativity to kindergarteners. By the time the family had gathered, he questioned his sanity coming to them for help. If he didn’t need Ullr, he’d have just left already.

_***_

Anders woke up naked. That was usually a plus. Unfortunately, he was naked and hanging from bound hands slipped over a hook suspended from the ceiling. His feet couldn’t touch the floor completely and his toes were dancing in something viscous and sticky. Vampires, he remembered. He refused to look down. He wouldn’t add vomit to the indignity of hanging naked.

_***_

Mike was still arguing. Mitchell really wished he could just eat him and be done with it. “Idiot,” he complained under his breath.

“What did you say?” Mike bellowed. No doubt left where Axl learned his style.

“I said,” Mitchell started, then paused as a grin spread across his face. A grin so mischievous that it ranked somewhere between Dexter Riley and The Grinch Who Stole Christmas. “I said… l bet you can’t find Anders anyway. I don’t know why I bothered asking.”

Olaf, Ty, Axl, and Ingrid turned toward Mikkel making an ooooooooooh sound. Dawn felt like she was back in third grade.

Mike threw his towel on the bar and headed for the door. “Let’s go get my idiot little brother.”

They all loaded into Olaf’s station wagon. Mike drove. Mitchell rode shotgun, ready to leap out at the slightest provocation. Olaf was relegated to the back and pondered the addition of liquorice to his special cookies.

It took over an hour for Ullr to track down the faux chateau where the ancients had hidden Anders away. It was creepy, overgrown, and boasted an actual dungeon. Hidden back in the hills, Mitchell could only imagine what horrors had been committed there, but he wasn’t about to let Anders fall victim to one of them.

The rescuers exploded out of the station wagon like clowns from a ancient VW. The fact that they were wielding supersoakers and potatoguns loaded with liquified and chunked liquorice respectively did nothing to improve the comparison. Only Ty was unarmed, but he carried his own ice power.

Mitchell stepped ahead of the crowd to survey the field and spot their best point of entry. Olaf stood next to him. He seemed more grounded and aware than usual, like he too had seen battle. But when he turned around, braced with his soldier’s experience to charge in and save the love of his life, he almost lost it.

Mikkel stood in the center of his brothers with his supersoaker held high in his left hand, right arm fisted on his hip. Axl squatted on his left, potatogun held out to the side. On the right, Ty stood with his hand akimbo, slightly resembling a karate pose.

Before Mitchell could lament that he was taking on three ancient vampire elders with Charlie’s Angels, Mikkel sprinted off. Mitchell was right on his heels as they raced through the castle. He was surprised that there weren’t more guards. Maybe all their underlings had taken the liquorice. That would leave a bunch of irate elders.


	3. Divine Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders is rescued.  
> The Nordic God appear.  
> Anders and Mitchell have a revelation.

Mitchell could smell him now that they were inside, that uniquely Anders scent of vodka, sex, and honey. Mitchell's eyes bled to black. Surprisingly, so did Ty's. But Ty's were black like Hodr's - black, full of stars, and blind. His other senses kicked in and Hodr followed Ullr with no hesitation. Mitchell glanced over to Olaf, but only Baldur looked back, fiercely. If Mitchell ever had a chance to defeat an ancient, this was it.

Mitchell followed the scent as much as he followed Ullr. Anders was close. Suddenly, Ty held up a hand to stop the group. As god of all things dark and cold, vampires fell into his domain and he could feel the three elders nearby. The power he exuded made Mitchell shiver. Baldur suggested a plan.

They'd all seen Ty make a beer cold before, but watching him freeze a steel door so Mitchell could just kick it in was a bit of a shock. Beyond the door, two ancient French vampires stood between them and Anders. The third stood behind Anders, holding his chin up and left for easy access. Anders tried to struggle, but his arms were exhausted from holding his weight and his toes slipped around in whatever was on the floor every time he tried to push up or away.

The flying steel door managed to slam Porthos into a wall temporarily while the other two actually experienced a few seconds of surprise and shock. It was all the rescuers needed.

"Hey, Mike!" Mitchell shouted, eager to see if he could get lucky twice, "I bet you can't hit them right in the back of the throat!"

It worked like a charm. Ullr might not have needed the boost, but all three ancient vampires were quickly gargling liquid liquorice. Some of it drooled out onto Anders' shoulder and he made a disgusted face despite the distraction of near biting.

Axl was shooting everyone with the candy pellets. Too full of own bravado, Axl’s foolish human ego kept Odin from really powering him up. Ty had the room so cold that the candy bits were nearly frozen and hurt, a lot. Plus, poor Anders' little johnson was trying to suck itself back inside for warmth.

"Mine!" Mitchell growled as he pulled the ancient off of Anders. They fell to the floor and wrestled mightily. Then suddenly Baldur was there.

"Move," he said and pushed Mitchell toward Anders. Then he began to shine.

'God of light, shit!' Mitchell thought as he scurried to hide behind Anders.

"What the fuck? Get me down! Holy Shit!" Anders did his best to shield Mitchell as he finally saw what was happening.

When it was over, the ancients were crispy black husks on the floor and Michell had what amounted to a sunburn. Axl had to help him get Anders down while Anders insisted Mitchell protect his dignity. Everyone scoffed at the word dignity.

Olaf gave Anders his poncho. That left his brothers sniggering about his "dress" but left access for Mitchell to check everywhere and make sure he was uninjured. They all staggered back out to the station wagon, exhausted.

The drive back was silent. Mikkel called a thing for two days later after they all had time to recover. Then they went home and passed out.

Eventually, Mitchell’s sniffing woke Anders.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Anders yawned, stretching languidly against the warm sheets and his even warmer boyfriend.

“You smell like him,” John growled, “shower.”

“Bath,” Anders corrected, “I’m still sore everywhere.” He slowly lifted a hand and stroked John’s cheek. “You’re so warm. Are you okay?” He suddenly remembered Olaf’s Baldur surge.

John laughed, “Compared to the crispy critter alternative, I’m great. And you are safe here in my arms. What more could I ever ask for?” Then he swept Anders up into a bridal carry and took him to that bath laughing and kissing all the way.

Part of the problem with two men in a tub was bubble overflow. John always added too much bubble bath. Sometimes they blew stray bubbles around in the air, giggling like small children, completely free of worries. Each secretly most loved baths for the relaxing, carefree spirit they engendered in his partner.

So here they sat, face to face, Anders relaxing while John gently scrubbed every inch of him to remove any trace of another vampire’s scent. By the time he started scrubbing the last of the viscous whatever from between Anders’ toes, the bubbles had faded to a handful and he sat with his head bent, focused on his work.

Anders, meanwhile was watching the concentrated bobbing of John’s head and having very different thoughts. There was a light in his dark curls. Just one, one light colored hair amongst that mop of unruly waves. He reached out and twirled it, making sure it was attached. John smiled up at him, clueless. Now the warm body made sense, not just a by-product of the burn, the liquorice was a cure. A few actual tears slipped from his eyes.

John looked up, “Anders?”

“You have a gray hair.”

John panicked. He had feared this would come eventually. Anders was not attracted to him anymore. Anders didn’t want him anymore. Anders was known for being fickle in his tastes. But over a gray hair? To his horror, his lower lip trembled. “I’m sorry…”

“No! That’s not what I mean. You have a gray hair. You’re becoming human. You’re going to be cured. We can grow old together.”

Grow old? John leapt from the tub and went to the mirror where he took one look and collapsed when the reality of what this implied hit him.

Anders toed the plug from the tub as he got out. He grabbed a towel and gathered up his love and manhandled him into a chair while he changed the bed linens. Then he tucked them both into bed. Now so many things made sense. Anders’ body should not have been enough to shield John. Yes, his skin was still more affected than that of the Johnsons’ but that may be because they were vessels. Mitchell had felt warm against him in the morning. That gray hair, that must have started growing weeks ago. They had overlooked it as they might have overlooked other signs. Anders finally gave into the urge of openly crying for joy.

After a long cuddle and a nap, they talked. They talked about Anders’ family, about the god stuff, about vampire stuff, about the business. And then they made a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was shorter than the other chapters BUT we have started on a sequel already!


End file.
